Here Comes The Sun
by Nette
Summary: Carter and Abby meet after the season finale and talk a little. ; )


**Rating**: PG  
**Spoilers**: No spoilers if you have seen the episodes up to 10.22 - "Drive".  
**Summary**: Carter and Abby meet after the season finale. : )  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything ... ; )  
**Feedback**: Sure, I'd love to know what you think! : )  
**Author's notes**: This is my entry for the "One Can Only Hope" fanfic challenge in June.  
The title is from the song "Here Comes The Sun" by The Beatles.  
Thank you Tracey for beta reading! ::hugs::  
  
The challenge was:   
- 1250 to 1750 words  
- Post "Drive" Carby epilogue.  
- Needs a reason behind the box Carter was carrying.  
  
**"Here Comes The Sun"**  
  
I turn around one last time to look at Abby as she enters the building – a slight smile on my lips – before I finally make my way home.  
It's ironic; it's probably one of the best moments in her life right now, while I might be at my lowest point.   
  
Timing – that has always been an issue between us.   
  
The rain keeps pouring down on my way home – mirroring my state of mind.   
I feel empty inside, the grey sky fitting perfectly to how I feel at the moment.   
  
I don't really care about the rain – I don't care that much about anything. Nothing seems right. It's even worse than a year ago when I first tried to escape everything and ran off to Africa – to give my life a new meaning.   
If I had known back then what I'd bring myself into – I'd never have left.   
  
Everything changed whilst I was away. I don't know the people, who used to be important, in my life anymore – I don't know myself anymore.   
  
My thoughts are interrupted when I reach our home. But it's not like rehashing these thoughts would change anything anyway.   
  
Home. It sounds ironic to talk about this place as our home. It has never been – and it will probably never be. It was the four walls around the dream I had – a dream I learned to have. But now it's empty – the dream is gone.   
  
I'm greeted by silence when I open the door – it's dark and it still smells like paint.   
I close my umbrella and make my way inside, make my way through boxes. Boxes filled with baby clothes, baby toys...   
  
She packed them immediately after we came back from the hospital. I don't know what she wants to do with them. Send them to Africa maybe, where they are needed – I wish we would keep them, at least for a little while. I'm not ready yet to let go.   
But she can't stand to be reminded of what we lost, over and over again. And I don't want to make it even harder for her.   
  
The constant pain I feel in my heart increases as I walk on and reach his room.   
It's not properly painted and baby items are still spread all over the place. We still have a lot more boxes to fill with his things.   
  
We. There's no _we_ .. there is her and there is me – separated.   
We are grieving – but we don't share our feelings. I know the loss of our child pains her as much as it pains me – but we just can't share it.   
I wish we could. Nobody should be alone with that kind of pain.   
  
"Kem?"   
My words echo in the empty rooms – the empty hallway, emphasizing that I am alone – the walls yelling back at me that I'm on my own.   
  
She's out again. She's been doing that a lot lately. I don't know where she's going, what she's doing there or when she'll be back. She never tells me.   
In the beginning I asked. But not anymore. If it helps her to be alone then I won't make her talk to me – we deal with the loss in different ways.   
  
I sigh and walk over to his crib. The crib he should be sleeping in peacefully by now.   
I trace my finger along the blanket inside. It's so soft and there are little bunnies on it. I'm sure he would have liked it.   
  
I feel tears welling up in my eyes.   
I don't know why I do that to myself. I should just try to forget all that happened. Get all reminders of this painful time out of the way. But I can't.   
Maybe to feel the pain is proof that I'm still alive – because sometimes I feel dead inside. Like nothing makes sense anymore.   
  
I look around the room, my vision blurry. But I can still make out the ultrasound picture on the shelf, the stuffed bear sitting next to it.   
I have to get out of here.   
  
I grab my umbrella and head out of the door.   
I have no idea where to go – but I can't stand to be here anymore.

* * *

I wander through the streets of Chicago aimlessly – head down, not paying attention to where I'm going. It's good that the streets are deserted – I'd have run into someone by now otherwise. But there isn't anyone. It's still raining hard, everything is flooded.   
  
No normal human being would go out voluntarily.   
But what's normal?   
  
I must have been walking around for hours when I finally look up to see where my feet took me while my head was elsewhere.   
My lips form a small smile when I see where I've ended up.   
The river.   
  
Who wants to sit alone in the rain? There are so many better places to be – for other people at least. So I don't expect our bench to be occupied on a day like this.   
  
Our. Us. We .. I remember my words – _There's an us?_ The thought of Abby keeps the smile on my face. Back then I knew that there was an us – but now these are things I don't find in my life anymore.   
  
Though maybe I'm wrong.   
I see a small figure sitting there, not even an umbrella with her to shield her against the rain. She's just sitting there, staring at the water.   
  
I hesitate for a moment. But I decide to go over to her. Something could be wrong for her to be sitting out here in this.   
  
"Abby?" I ask carefully.   
She turns her head towards me slowly – a surprised expression on her face. But it turns into a little smile quickly.   
  
"Hey, what are you doing here? Didn't you want to go home?"   
I shrug my shoulders and just look at her. "I don't know... I was at home... but I couldn't stand it there... I needed to get out."   
She nods understandingly and pats the spot next to her. "Sit down."   
  
I nod and follow her invitation, holding my umbrella above our heads.   
"What is it with you and that box today?" she asks me with a curious smile – apparently going for smalltalk for now. "It's like your life depends on it."   
I shrug my shoulders and look down my left side. I hadn't even noticed it was still with me. "I have no idea," I smile with her. "But if we'll sit here for long both our lifes might depend on it," I tell her with a wink. "Frank's wife baked a cake..."   
She nods, still smiling.   
  
We just look at each other for a moment, not knowing what to say – before she begins to speak again. "How's Kem?"   
I shrug my shoulders again. "I don't know. She wasn't at home .. she's out a lot these days .. I don't know where she's going," I admit. It always amazes me how easily I can talk to Abby about anything.   
  
She puts a hand on my shoulder to comfort me. "She needs time."   
I nod. "I know. I just wish she'd let us share our pain."   
"She will," she tries to reassure me, squeezing my shoulder lightly.   
"I don't know. I can't give her what she needs and she can't give me what I need either. It's like we can't talk anymore."   
  
Actually, I fear we never did.   
  
"You know that the offer still stands .. if you need anything .." she trails off.   
I nod and keep smiling at her. "I know. Thank you."   
  
And my smile is a genuine one. I'm surprised how much she can change my mood by just listening. By just sitting here with me.   
  
"And you? What about you?" I notice. "What brings you here on a day like this? You shouldn't be sitting in the rain. You should be celebrating with your friends and family that you passed your boards."   
  
She can't help but grin. She's proud. And so am I.   
"Maybe all I need is right here," she tells me with a smirk.   
  
I smile with her and watch her for a moment. I'm impressed. She's come so far within the last year. She's all I ever wanted her to be. Not for me – but for herself. And she made it. She seems so happy.   
  
She's first to turn her head towards the water and I follow her gaze to watch the raindrops with her in comfortable silence as they're hitting the surface.   
  
And suddenly I realize that I feel better. I don't know how she did it – but I feel better. It's like a bit of her happiness reaches me and makes me feel happier too. I'm very lucky to have a friend like her. A friend who's there no matter what. A friend who understands and just listens.   
She is the only person that makes my life a little brighter at the moment.   
  
"I don't think you need that anymore," she suddenly says and points at my umbrella.   
I close it and look up into the sky and with a slight smile on my face I can see the sun breaking through the thick wall of clouds, pushing them aside.   
It stopped raining.   



End file.
